A/N: FINALLY UPDATED! I don't own Glee, nor any of the characters here. If I did, you'd know it.

Santana's mouth hangs open as she sees Brittany—her Brittany—hanging all over Sam Evans, one of her (many) ex-boyfriends. The nausea bubbles in her throat, and she cringes. Rather than instantly confront Britt, though, she gives her friends big hugs. Even Puck, who she hasn't been on speaking terms with for a long time. When Brittany notices her, though, the nausea fades instantly. The blonde girl bounding towards her with a smile makes her heart skip a beat, and Brittany in her arms feels like home. She realizes how long five days without Britt-Britt felt.

"Where were you, San?" The blonde whispers into her hair, making Santana's heart clench. How is she going to explain this?

"It was an art fieldtrip." She says quietly, trying to shed the shame of leaving her friends—and more importantly, actually having more fun in Westerville than she had ever had in Lima. "I've got some great sketches, if you wanna see?" Brittany's eyes light up at this, and Santana smiles genuinely, excited to show her best friend her art. Nick and Jeff, really. She shakes them out of her head quickly.

"Hey!" Puck calls from behind them. "We're going to hang out at Skandals tonight, if you're interested in coming, Lopez." He grins at her as the devious look in the Latina's eyes immediately gave the answer.

"I'll drink you under the fucking table, Puckerman. Bring it!" She shouts back, and everyone laughs.

Santana actually had expected to show Brittany her drawings when they got to her house. But as soon as the door to San's bedroom shuts, Brittany firmly pulls Santana to her and kisses her with strength. Santana pulls back for a moment, her eyes confused.

"I missed you, San! I thought we could have some sweet lady kisses as celebration?" Britt says, her head tilted slightly to the side. In response, Santana kisses her again, her hands pressed firmly to the blonde's face. Brittany's hands slide down her sides and tug her impossibly closer, so their bodies are practically one.

"Brittany, I—" She begins, but her phone begins vibrating, and she unwillingly leaves Brittany's embrace to see who is bothering her right now.

"Hello?" She sighs in annoyance, picking up the phone.

"Santana! Thank goodness you picked up el teléfono. ¿Qué estás haciendo ahora? Aquí estoy en mi casa ahora mismo, puede dejar las llaves en la mesa?" Santana pales as the familiar voice wafts through the phone.

"¡Mamá! Yo no sabía que ibas a venir a casa tan temprano. Voy a poner las teclas de allí ahora. Te veré pronto. Te quiero!" Santana quickly hangs up the phone. "Britt, that was my mom. You've gotta go."

"But San—"

"Brittany, my mom can't know you're here. You know how she is…" Brittany's face falls. "Britt, you—you can't let her make you upset. You know what we have is special." Santana grabs one of Britt's hands and gives it a tiny squeeze. "I'll see you tonight at Puck's party, okay?"

"Okay San." The Latina watches her best friend leave before angrily grabbing the set of keys her mom needs and slamming them on the counter.

"Mama, please may I go tonight?"

"As long as you're home by midnight. I'm going out again in a few minutes for work, so I need you to promise me you'll be here."

"Yes, mama, I promise."

"Okay then. You can go."

"¡Gracias mamá!"

"Well, if it isn't Ninja Lopez!" Puck shouts as Santana walks into the bar. She can tell by the sound of his voice that he's a little buzzed already. "How'd you stay so quiet? I'm surprised, with your big Mexican mouth and all—"

"I'm Hispanic. Fuck you!" She replies, laughing with everyone as Puck's eyebrows rise.

"I know you want to." He says, eyeing her with interest.

"You're a pig, you know that?" She sighs in frustration. "And unless you'd like me to call the cops for some underage drinking, I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you." Everyone 'ooh's at this, and Puck's face drains of color. He mumbles something about needing to use the bathroom before splitting away.

"Well," Sam says with an enthusiastic smile. "Puckerman's gone, so we can actually have fun now!" Santana laughs again with everyone, already feeling drunk enough on excitement. But when she notices Brittany's laugh amongst the rest, and sees her leaning against Trouty Mouth, the euphoria dies away a little. She slams her fist against the bar, and a bartender slides over to her.

"What can I get for you, babe?" He asks, a sly grin on his face.

"Well, you can give me some personal space. Also some vodka." She smiles spitefully as he turns bright red and slips away from her, embarrassed. Santana turns around to look for Brittany, but she's not in her crowd of friends.

"She went to the bathroom." Quinn, Sam's brother, pipes up, knowing exactly what she's looking for.

"Ah." Santana replies, pausing a little. "Well, you want a drink?" She offers the blonde girl a shot glass full of alcohol.

"I'd love to." The other girl replies, sitting on the barstool next to her. She turns to face the Latina, a smile spreading across her face. "To idiot guys?"

"To idiot guys," Santana laughs, clinking glasses with Quinn and throwing back the painfully strong liquid. They begin to chat a little, discussing their similar hobbies—Quinn sketches in her free time, so she can banter with Santana about the benefits of using thicker paper rather than the weak stuff everyone uses. After a few too many drinks, though, Quinn holds out a hand to stop Santana's words and shakes her head quickly, as if trying to knock something off of her head.

"Are you single?" She slurs. Santana, similarly drunk, begins to laugh loudly.

"Yeessss ma'am." She giggles in reply, and soon they're both hysterically laughing at each other for being so ridiculously drunk. But when Quinn puts a clumsy hand on Santana's shoulder to pull her closer, she begins to panic, her drunken brain just piecing together the clues.

Thankfully, Puck ends up saving her ass.

"Q," He shouts as the music is turned up. "Get the fuck off of Lopez. She's obviously not into you." Santana nods in drunken agreement, and is about to say she's interested in someone else when his lips mash against hers roughly. She wants to pull away from him, tell him she's into Brittany, but his hands feel so good on her hot skin and she's had so much to drink and the change is so welcome that she reciprocates his kisses, hauling herself up onto him.

"You're welcome," He pants between short breaks. "Now let's get outta here." She nods enthusiastically, the alcohol taking its full course on her system and making her thoughts a jumbled mess. So they fall out through the door, their lips locked together, and somehow end up at Santana's house. They collapse onto her huge bed and he pins her there, his lips brushing over her skin at a rate that makes Santana ache to be touched.

"I—" She begins, her lips parting in desire as Puck buries his face into the crook of her neck. "I'm not in love with you, Puck."

"I know," He mumbles into her neck, not at all upset. "I don't care. I need a good fuck."

"I—" She rolls her hips against his in need, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down closer her. "Yes," She breathes huskily, and they shed their clothes quickly.

"Fuck me," She gasps as he enters her, and he obliges more than willingly. The alcohol numbs the feelings of harsh anger and regret at their past is riddled with, replacing them with stupidity and bad choices.

She wakes up and proceeds to pull the pillow over her head, the bright light making her splitting headache ten times worse. Vaguely, she remembers she slept with Puck, but when she rolls over, the bed is empty. She huffs in anger, and then regrets it as a wave of nausea swiftly wafts over her. Barely holding her stomach down, she reaches over to the table next to her bed and picks up her phone.

Santana: Y did u go?

Puck: U wanted me 2 stay?

S: not rlly. Jst wondring.

P: U nd I r not 2gethr
I dont hav 2 stay with u
we sed this wuz just a fuck

S: tru
lol nvm

She puts down the phone, waiting for a response while simultaneously rolling out of bed and pulling on the shreds of clothing she calls underwear. Her phone vibrates a few moments later, a response from her ex-boyfriend.

P: Hey, u wanna hang 2day?

S: u didnt get enuff of me last nite?

P: Sam ditched me again.

S: Wat?

P: He keeps hangin w/b

S: B?

P: Brittany

S: R u sure?

P: Dude he keeps ditching me to hang w/her its annoyin

S: Do uk wat he does?

P: He says hes banged her harder than shes been banged in her life

Santana freezes before texting him again.

S: Cant hang. G2G. L8R.

"That can't be true…can it?" She whispers.

She goes out again to party for the second night in a row, but this time, it's to try and prove Puck wrong. She walks by a handful of police out in front of Skandals, and she raises an eyebrow before walking up to them.

"S'cuse me? What's going on, officers?" She asks, putting on an innocent guise as she stares at whatever they're looking at. They frown at her before turning their attention to the report they're reading.

"There was a gun that recently missing. It's one of our better ones…you wouldn't know about this." One of them says, brushing her away. She vaguely remembers the gun Sebastian was holding when she first saw him in action and wonders if it's the same one. The thought slips from her mind as she sees Brittany walk through the doors.

"Mmkay, whatever!" She says obnoxiously before skipping away and over to the doors. She walks in and everyone waves at her, some of them already beginning to get drunk.

Santana quietly closes the door and slips out of the bar. It's not like it matters anyway, since everyone's completely hammered and Puck is hitting on anything that moves. She snorts at her ex's mindless behavior and smoothes down her tight black dress, exiting the loud bar. She leans against the wall and sighs heavily, happy to be home. That is, until she hears a soft, guttural moan that sounds so familiar to her. Santana turns the corner and sees Sam Evans grinding and kissing some girl against the wall. The girl has her hands against the wall. She gasps his name drunkenly, and Santana suddenly recognizes the voice.
"Sam..." Brittany slurs, and Santana's heart clenches at the sound. She blinks back tears and watches her best friend sucking face with one of her ex boyfriends. 'Please, Brittany, push him away. You don't love him like I do...' she whispers under her breath. But the blonde doesn't push the boy away from her. In fact, she moves her hands from the wall and wraps her arms around Sam, pulling him closer to her. She doesn't look miserable. She looks...happy. Santana turns away and tries to fight her tears.
"You shouldn't be surprised, Santana. You did the exact same thing to her last night. Besides, it's not like you mean that much to her." Quinn says coldly, staring her friend down. Santana runs then. She runs home and slams the front door, thankful no one is home. She picks the lock of the alcohol cabinet and finds a glass bottle of brightly colored vodka, which she snatches into her hands and immediately begins to down. She can't control her tears by the middle of the night, blubbering and drinking as much as she can get in a mouthful.
"Fuggit," She babbles at her reflection. "Britt doesn't want youuuu you stupid slut." She then bursts into tears, sobs convulsing her body completely. The liquor slowly works its magic, though, and Santana begins to lose her mind. She picks up her phone and dials the first number that comes up in her contacts list.
"Heyyy Sebby." she slurs. "What're you doing? Wanna have a driiiink with me?" She holds up the bottle of vodka and extends it as if she's toasting something.
"I...Satan, are you drunk?"
"Drunk as a doornail," She giggles. "Come on overrrr I'm lonely and my world is all empty and worthless without Brittany..." At the mention of the blonde, she begins to cry again. "I'm not good enough, Sebby! I can't hold onto her forever but she's my whole world and I looove her and she doesn't love me back and I jus wanna dieeeee."
The other end of the phone hangs up. Santana stares in shock at the cell phone before throwing it to the ground.
"Everyone leaves." She tearfully whispers. "Everyone." She grabs the bottle of Absolut and downs the last chug, her vision swimming. "Everyone leaves!" She shouts again, stumbling against the couch and falling against it. She feels a sudden wrench in her stomach, and before she realizes what's happening, she begins to retch over the carpet.
"Fuck," she chokes, trying to hold down her stomach. In a valiant attempt to be clean, she begins a crawl towards the bathroom, but gets sick halfway there. She rolls over, crying and feeling horrible, before falling into a deep unconsciousness. She doesn't remember the smashing open of her door. She doesn't feel the arms lifting her from the ground. She doesn't hear the soft, worried voice whispering in her ear, trying to keep her with him.
"Satan, please wake up."

A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long. It's been hectic, what with me dealing with the Cory/Lea relationship outing and all. I promise you, I'll try and be more active with the updates. I feel horrible :(

R&R, if you can forgive me?

xoxo Phoebe